As mentioned in Pt. 1 of this series, the film scene is very different from the book scene it is based on. The most obvious difference is that there is no Sam in the film scene. But the main change is in the portrayal of Galadriel. At Henneth Annún, Sam tries to describe her to Faramir. "It ought to be song", he says, but makes do pulling together pairs of contrasting images. She's beautiful, lovely, "like a great tree in flower, sometimes a white daffadowndilly, small and slender like"; "hard as di'monds, soft as moonlight"; "warm as sunlight, cold as frost in the stars"; "proud and far-off as a snow-mountain, and as merry as any lass I ever saw with daisies in her hair". "Then she must be lovely indeed", says Faramir, "perilously fair."

"'I don't know about perilous,' said Sam. 'It strikes me that folk takes their peril with them into Lórien, and finds it there because they've brought it. But perhaps you could call her perilous, because she's so strong in herself. You, you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a rock; or drownd yourself, like a hobbit in a river. But neither rock nor river would be to blame.'"

The film seems to show the opposite: folk do find peril in Lórien, peril they did not bring with them, centered in the character of Galadriel. It is as though the filmmakers took Sam's diverse remarks and heavily underscored the "perilously fair" side of her at the expense of her warm, approachable side. In fact, only viewers of the EE version of FotR really get to see the Galadriel Sam and the Fellowship find charming and a font of consolation and encouragement. Film Galadriel does show concern and empathy for Frodo in the Mirror scene, but only fleeting glimpses. Mostly she is remote and mysterious, even inscrutable -- when she is not openly frightening.

The Mirror scene, for Frodo, is almost like a mythic trial. Like the hero who must answer the Sphinx's riddle or die, Frodo's encounter with Galadriel seems like an ordeal out of myth, a test he must pass in order to go on. Watching the EE gift-giving scene and lyrical farewell to Lórien, the only scene in which Galadriel really gets to display her gracious, beneficent side, it seems as though Frodo and the company are there only because they have won through the night's ordeal. "Bipolar": that's what film Galadriel has been humorously called, "either giving gifts or scaring the shit out of people". But, writing these posts, I wonder if her portrayal isn't part of the filmmakers' transformation of book Lórien, a mystical haven of refreshment and restoration, into the Perilous Realm: a world of great beauty but one fraught with danger. In such a place, the land of Faerie, the land of myth, goddesses rescue from death but also kill, and powerful, seductive female characters, like Homer's Circe and Calypso, give gifts to heroes, but only to those who pass their tests.

Further remarks:

A new poem by jan-u-wine, written from Galadriel's point of view, appears below the caps. It is the second in her series, Lórien Suite. It is written to the film scene yet is imbued with a book-reader's sense of Galadriel's empathy and understanding.

I wanted to note, too, the way the book scene reminds us that Sam, not only Frodo, looks into the Mirror. He sees Frodo lying in the Pass (although he doesn't know that's what he sees), and he sees a ravaged Hobbiton: a test for Sam that makes plain to him, with Galadriel's help, that he has thrown in his lot with Frodo, no matter what is happening in his beloved Shire. Frodo sees visions, too, culminating in his vision of the Eye. No film scene, I am afraid, can convey for me the book's sense of the Eye, with its "black slit of a pupil that opens on a pit, a window into nothing". It makes me shiver.

~*~

Book scene:The Mirror of Galadriel.

‘And you?’ she said, turning to Sam. ‘For this is what your folk would call magic, I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem also to use the same word of deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel. Did you not say that you wished to see Elf-magic?’

‘I did,’ said Sam, trembling a little between fear and curiosity. ‘I’ll have a peep, Lady, if you’re willing.’

‘And I’d not mind a glimpse of what’s going on at home,’ he said in an aside to Frodo. ‘It seems a terrible long time that I’ve been away. But there, like as not I’ll only see the stars, or something that I won’t understand.’

‘Like as not,’ said the Lady with a gentle laugh. ‘But come, you shall look and see what you may. Do not touch the water!’

Sam climbed up on the foot of the pedestal and leaned over the basin. The water looked hard and dark. Stars were reflected in it.

‘There’s only stars, as I thought,’ he said. Then he gave a low gasp, for the stars went out. As if a dark veil had been withdrawn, the Mirror grew grey, and then clear. There was shining sun, and the branches of trees were waving and tossing in the wind. But before Sam could make up his mind what it was that he saw, the light faded; and now he thought he saw Frodo with a pale face lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff. Then he seemed to see himself going along a dim passage, and climbing an endless winding stair. It came to him suddenly that he was looking urgently for something, but what it was he did not know. Like a dream the vision shifted and went back, and he saw the trees again. But this time they were not so close, and he could see what was going on: they were not waving in the wind, they were falling, crashing to the ground.

‘Hi!’ cried Sam, in an outraged voice. ‘There’s that Ted Sandyman a-cutting down trees as he shouldn’t. They didn’t ought to be felled: it’s that avenue beyond the mill that shades the road to Bywater. I wish I could get at Ted, and I’d fell him!’

But now Sam noticed that the Old Mill had vanished, and a large red-brick building was being put up where it had stood. Lots of folk were busily at work. There was a tall red chimney nearby. Black smoke seemed to cloud the surface of the Mirror.

‘There’s some devilry at work in the Shire,’ he said. ‘Elrond knew what he was about when he wanted to send Mr. Merry back.’ Then suddenly Sam gave a cry and sprang away. ‘I can’t stay here,’ he said wildly. ‘I must go home. They’ve dug up Bagshot Row, and there’s the poor old gaffer going down the Hill with his bits of things on a barrow. I must go home!’

‘You cannot go home alone,’ said the Lady. ‘You did not wish to go home without your master before you looked in the Mirror, and yet you knew that evil things might well be happening in the Shire. Remember that the Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their path to prevent them. The Mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds.’

Sam sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. ‘I wish I had never come here, and I don’t want to see no more magic,’ he said and fell silent. After a moment he spoke again thickly, as if struggling with tears. ‘No, I’ll go home by the long road with Mr. Frodo, or not at all,’ he said. ‘But I hope I do get back some day. If what I’ve seen turns out true, somebody’s going to catch it hot!’

‘Do you now wish to look, Frodo?’ said the Lady Galadriel. ‘You did not wish to see Elf-magic and were content.’

‘Do you advise me to look?’ asked Frodo.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I do not counsel you one way or the other. I am not a counsellor. You may learn something, and whether what you see be fair or evil, that may be profitable, and yet it may not. Seeing is both good and perilous. Yet I think, Frodo, that you have courage and wisdom enough for the venture, or I would not have brought you here. Do as you will!’

‘I will look,’ said Frodo, and he climbed on the pedestal and bent over the dark water. At once the Mirror cleared and he saw a twilit land. Mountains loomed dark in the distance against a pale sky. A long grey road wound back out of sight. Far away a figure came slowly down the road, faint and small at first, but growing larger and clearer as it approached. Suddenly Frodo realized that it reminded him of Gandalf. He almost called aloud the wizard’s name, and then he saw that the figure was clothed not in grey but in white, in a white that shone faintly in the dusk, and in its hand there was a white staff. The head was so bowed that he could see no face, and presently the figure turned aside round a bend in the road and went out of the Mirror’s view. Doubt came into Frodo’s mind: was this a vision of Gandalf on one of his many lonely journeys long ago, or was it Saruman?

The vision now changed. Brief and small but very vivid he caught a glimpse of Bilbo walking restlessly about his room. The table was littered with disordered papers; rain was beating on the windows.

Then there was a pause, and after it many swift scenes followed that Frodo in some way knew to be parts of a great history in which he had become involved. The mist cleared and he saw a sight which he had never seen before but knew at once: the Sea. Darkness fell. The sea rose and raged in a great storm. Then he saw against the Sun, sinking blood-red into a wrack of clouds, the black outline of a tall ship with torn sails riding up out of the West. Then a wide river flowing through a populous city. Then a white fortress with seven towers. And then again a ship with black sails, but now it was morning again, and the water rippled with light, and a banner bearing the emblem of a white tree shone in the sun. A smoke as of fire and battle arose; and into the mist a small ship passed away, twinkling with lights. It vanished, and Frodo sighed and prepared to draw away.

But suddenly the Mirror went altogether dark, as dark as if a hole had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the black abyss there appeared a single Eye that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the Mirror. So terrible was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to cry out or to withdraw his gaze. The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat’s, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.

Then the Eye began to rove, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things that it sought he himself was one. But he also knew that it could not see him—not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his neck grew heavy, heavier than a great stone, and his head was dragged downwards. The Mirror seemed to be growing hot and curls of steam were rising from the water. He was slipping forward.

‘Do not touch the water!’ said the Lady Galadriel softly. The vision faded, and Frodo found that he was looking at the cool stars twinkling in the silver basin. He stepped back shaking all over and looked at the Lady.

~*~

Film scene:

Frodo steps up to the basin to look inside. Peering down, he sees nothing at first but his reflection in the dark water. Suddenly, the surface of the water moves and he sees a vision of Legolas, Merry and Pippin, then Sam, all looking at him with troubled expressions. He sees Bag End. Looking on in horror, he watches Hobbiton burn, the neighbors and friends he has known all his life enslaved. Sam appears, chained, and struck by an Orc. The Shire is a desolate wasteland.

Galadriel in the book embodies all the beautiful, good and mysterious qualities of woman, I think, as Tolkien imagined her. Goddess, mother, innocent virgin, and terror, all in one.

Good assessment, Mews. In the films, she is very like a goddess in her scenes with Frodo, her human side coming out more with other characters. I thought Cate Blanchet was wonderful as the film's Galadriel. I'm so glad she was cast. But I am terribly glad the EE scene was added. It gives a real sense of the book's warmer, merrier, sadder, more caring Galadriel. I love the work she does with Aragorn: wise, sad, and compassionate. In her smile when Sam wonders if he might have a dagger instead of rope, and in her manner hearing Gimli's request I finally get to see a glimpse of Sam's description, "merry as any lass ... with daisies in her hair". I think the EE version of the scene shows some of her best work in the films.

It is as though the filmmakers took Sam's diverse remarks and heavily underscored the "perilously fair" side of her at the expense of her warm, approachable side.

I didn't like the film portrayal of Galadriel at ALL (not even the casting, alas). I also didn't like how Celeborn was relegated to a 'consort' (such as the way I view Prince Philip), since Galadriel spoke so respectfully and admiringly of him in the book and it was inferred that the gifts came from him, but were given by her.

As you can tell I really loved Cate Blanchet in the film role, but the film character was not the book character. The only really off moments in the portrayal for me (other than 'Nuclear Gladys, to be discussed in Pt. 4) were when she was shown giving puzzling reactions in scenes, reactions which, I imagined, were filmed for other versions of the script but which were put where they were put in the final cut.

I totally agree about the way Celeborn was presented, however. It was not good. Perhaps in keeping with the film's portrayal of Galadriel as the Elf version of the Virgin Goddess of ancient myths, he was merely a consort, as you noted. Virgin Goddesses, while they may have one or many lovers, never actually give themselves to any man. They do not belong to anyone but themselves. And, to be fair, even book Galadriel is more like Athena than Hera. Yet she's more like Elbereth (who is her own self yet clearly partnered with Manwe) than any of the Greek goddesses.

That Celeborn was such a cipher seemed even more of a shame to me because I'd seen the actor, Marton Tsokas, do very good work on Xena, an older fantasy adventure TV show my daughter really liked. I watched many episodes with her and Tsokas, like Karl Urban, was featured in several memorable segments. I thought the Celeborn of the film seemed like an automaton. The exception was his EE scene with Aragorn, when Celeborn warns him about the orcs. It seemed as though an imperious curse (from the HP stories) had been lifted from him. ;)

They 'fixed' Celeborn in the EE, IMO. :) I thought he was truly a noble Elf Lord in that. :) Even if he does bear an extraordinary resemblance to Lucius Malfoy, LOL! Poor Martin Csokas, he got a bit shafted in the theatrical version.

I am afraid that my vision of Celeborn was corrupted many years ago by a wholly irreverent remark on the Imladris messageboard -- a remark made by The Purist, no less -- about what an arse he was to the Fellowship when they turned up in Lorien. I'd never thought of it like that before, but I had to concede that The Purist had a point. :D

I'm glad to hear you also appreciated the fine work they let Tsokas do in the EE scenes. I wish that was the level and tone of the whole portrayal. How much better it would have been both for actor and narrative.

When you say The Purist said Celeborn was an arse to the Fellowship, I take it he/she was talking about the film Celeborn? Or did he/she mean Celeborn in the book? Your last remark, "I've never been the most reverent of Tolkien fans" seems to imply the latter.... No need to be reverent of the films, after all. ;)

(Sorry I am only just now answering this, Pearl; I didn't see it until just now; guess no "notice of reply" got sent.)

The Purist (he was a he) was referring to Book Celeborn. I well remember the discussion -- it was at least 18 months before the films came out! :) The Purist made me laugh with his dismissal of Book Celeborn, and then I thought: 'you know, he's right. Celeborn was out of line to denounce Gandalf's apparent fall from wisdom because he had died in Moria, and really out of line to doubt the Fellowship because he must have realised what grave peril they were in, surely.'

Galadriel, with hindsight, appears much the wiser of the two.

It does make one wonder why she left Cel behind when she sailed with the other Ringbearers. :D

Well, C. doesn't sound like the sharpest knife in the drawer. They met way back when; maybe he was an Elf hunk and Galadriel found him strangely irresistible. In Tolkien's essay on the ways and mores of Elvish marriage and mating practices it sounds like Elves, typically do their mating and child-rearing in the early part of their lives. Not that the Elves in LotR are typical; Legolas still isn't married and Elrond married late and had his children late. But in Tolkien's description of the typical course of Elf marriages, the early years of childbearing and rearing give way to a lifetime of greater distance. They are still married and not portrayed as straying into infidelities, but they seem to share a more mental intimacy after the shagging years are over (and they're over early!), tending to spend more time each pursuing her/his own interest and honing their skills, which may require time away from each other to do. So maybe what seems like distance and coolness between C. and G., the only married Elf couple we see in LotR, is a depiction of what mature immortals are like as couples: "we do our own things and we are o.k. with that". Also, from the perspective of immortals, maybe the time they spend separated -- Celebrian leaving Elrond early to recuperate in Aman, Celeborn not ready to leave when Galadriel does, but staying to linger in M-E - see Sam and Elanor's remarks in The Epilogue -- is not so onerous for them. Just tossing some ideas around....

I absolutely adore Blanchett's Galadriel. It was perfect casting, IMO.

I have many minor beefs with PJ's adaptational choices, but the Mirror scene is not one of them. It's probably my favourite sequence in the whole of FotR. I just LOVE it: it's so mysterious and powerful and dream-like. I also madly love Shore's music for this scene: truly his score makes these films what they are, a point hammered home for me when I saw FotR at the Royal Albert Hall with a live orchestra playing. And it was the music, rather than the film, that moved me. (Since I've seen FotR zillions of times, I'm somewhat blase about it now, although will always treasure my memories of the intensity of my first viewing.)

The only thing I don't like about this sequence is Galadriel going nuclear: nothing really wrong with portraying her Ring-temptation moment like that from a canon POV, I guess, just all a bit overwrought!! PJ should have trusted more to Cate's acting, since she could have carried that moment on the strength of her acting alone. Some enhanced effects would have been fine too, like the ones used when Gandalf gets angry with Bilbo in Bag End for wanting to keep the Ring -- that was a great way to hint at G's hidden power.

But for me personally there is not this great divide between LotR Galadriel and Movie Galadriel. The film portrayed Silmarillion Galadriel to me and that really is how I prefer her. She has an EDGE, as I interpret her, and while her long years have matured her and taught her greater wisdom -- she is no longer a Noldorin rebel, nor the proud lady who refused to give Feanor a lock of her hair (I know he was a jerk, but he wasn't exactly asking for the moon, was he, LOL) -- I do like her portrayed with that edge.

Similarly, I don't see this great divide between the book's portrayal of Lothlorien as a gently restorative haven and the film's darker, edgier depiction of it as the Perilous Realm. The book portrays it as a Perilous Realm too -- certainly the Rohirrim and Gondorians see it as such! And they are right, in some ways. It's guarded by deadly Noldor who will not hesitate to shoot an enemy dead.

Whose perspective is Jan's poem written from? I'm at work so confess I read it in rather a hurry.

ETA: I should make the note bigger, but in the intro. remark about the poem (last paragraph before the book excerpt), I say that the poem is written from Galadriel's point of view. Maybe I should put that down before the poem itself. I didn't because I wanted the poem to flow directly from the caps.

The film portrayed Silmarillion Galadriel to me and that really is how I prefer her. She has an EDGE, as I interpret her, and while her long years have matured her and taught her greater wisdom -- she is no longer a Noldorin rebel, nor the proud lady who refused to give Feanor a lock of her hair (I know he was a jerk, but he wasn't exactly asking for the moon, was he, LOL) -- I do like her portrayed with that edge.

Very good, Pearl! That's a great way for me to look at film Galadriel. I don't see this character in LotR itself, I confess. I think JRRT really only filled out her story in hindsight. But the story of the young Noldorin Elizabeth I-to-be (perhaps another reason Cate strikes the right note for me?) is a fascinating one (LOVED when she wouldn't give Feanor any of her hair).

Yes, Lothlórien was portrayed as dangerous in the book in so far as it was heavily guarded and it was death to enter without leave etc. But was that because this was part of the essence of the place or because over time Lórien had come under relentless siege, with orcs from the Misty Mountains to the west and Sauron to the east?

The sort of fear the Men of Rohan (and Gondor) felt towards Lórien and its Lady had a lot more to do, I think, with the sort of awed fear rightly due "the Perilous Realm". It's not that you might get filled with arrows passing too close, it's because you might find it so heady and so enthralling you might never want to leave. If you lost your life, maybe even your self, it would be life as you'd known it and your self as you thought you knew it. Not because of an assault, something externally done to you by the land or its enchanted and enchanting people, but because you had followed your own aroused desire for the sublime and mysterious at the heart of the world. Or that's what I think, anyway.

Your screencaps are just incredible, btw.

Don't miss the ones from last week; they're beauts, too. (Link is at bottom of post.)

Pearl, now that you're back, how was Wales? Will you be posting about it? I hope so.

You're absolutely right about book Galadriel. I really do look at LotR from the perspective of The Silmarillion, since I was so blown away by the Big Picture presented in Sil. And I loved the edgier Galadriel presented in Sil. It also makes sense of her long story.

I can't really argue with your thoughts on Lorien. ;)

When I get a chance, I hope to post about Wales. I no longer have the time or the energy to post more on my LJ more than once a week, if that. But it was a wonderful, restorative holiday and we were staying in such a beautiful region. The landscape (ancient mountains, ancient forests, hills and valleys) was positively Arthurian. I could easily imagine one of the lakes we passed -- its grey, ruffled waters nestling under the frowning cliffs of Cader Idris -- being the place where Excalibur lies buried ... When I get a chance, I'll post my photos but this is unlikely to be before the weekend.

For my birthday, my sister gave me the latest Tolkien tome: 'The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun'. :) It looks GREAT. I've still not read 'Children of Hurin' though.

Oooh, you were given Sigurd and Gudrun? I still haven't got it. You're the first person I've heard from who's actually read it. You make me all excited. I love that story anyway, and how cool to read it told by JRRT.

Yeah, I now read LotR from the perspective of the Silmarillion stories, too. It can't be helped: once you have heard those tales, how can they not inform your imagination when you're reading? But I can still retain a sense for where Tolkien was when he was writing LotR. I'm no purist, though. Even if he hadn't yet worked out the details of Galadriel's backstory, what he came up with (or the various versions of it) rings true with his larger history of the Noldor, what with their special gifts and challenges and weaknesses were. He seemed to veer between "proud, brilliant creator/ruler Galadriel" and a highly compassionate, all-wise, sad-smiling sort of Our Lady of the Penitent and Sorrowful. I think they're all in the mix, the versions, and I see no problem perceiving them in the canon character. If he hadn't yet explicitly formulated her character and role in M-E at that point, it was all there in nuss, in his head, simmering away in the pot of his imagination.

Read Shirebound's comment, Lily. She agrees with you. Also, my sister, who read the books when she was young, watched the film with me and said a short way into the Mirror scene, "why is she being so weird and creepy? I thought she was supposed to be Frodo's friend and ally."

I think loads of viewers who'd read the book thought this when they saw the film. I did, too. I still do. Yet the fact remains that I find this scene engrossing cinema and, in some way, resonant of Tolkien's world. When that happens, I always like to try and find why a scene moves and thrills me, even when it is at odds with the book I love.

Masterfully captured, Mechtild. Each frame has Frodo's eyes flashing a different emotion, from doubt to resolution to fear. And as usual, Jan's poem held me in awe. Especially given the point view. And this line:

*you*,undoneupon the knife-pointof your fear,

your desire.

And the ending makes me shiver.

Your collaboration with Jan is always an enlightening feast for thought. Thank you Mechtild.

'Nuclear Gladys' was a little OTT, wasn't she? However, I must agree with you, Mechtild, and say that I love the mirror scene. For me, the film-makers and actors ~ together with Howard Shore's evocative score ~ captured the mood perfectly. Galadriel is lovely, but Frodo is utterly breathtaking.

This is one of the 23 scenes (just in Fellowship) where I always hit 'pause', sit there with my jaw dropping and mumble some variation of "my god he is just so beautiful". Someone once said that it almost hurt to look at Elijah as Frodo. it's true.

"It almost hurt to look at Elijah as Frodo" - I am assuming they meant because his beauty was so rare and astonishing it caused a clenching in the chest, a cessation of normal breathing and a choking sensation in the throat. Yes, I can relate to that....

You say there are "23 scenes" were you hit pause, Wakerobin. Are you being droll or have you actually identified and counted them? What are some others? Are you including the EE? Just curious. :)

Jan's poem is an exquisitely sharp distillation, as always, with your lovely caps and commentary.

Maybe too, the film is trying to convey that Galadriel's warmth is for her people's and realm's protection and not Frodo and the Gandalf-less Fellowship until she has tested him. Not only is Galadriel and Lothlorien depicted as more dangerous, but that Frodo could bring an attack from Mordor there is also indicated--something I don't think is indicated in the LotR, but Sauron's abandoned plan to attack Lothlorien and Rivendell in favor of Gondor is discussed at length in The Unfinished Tales.

I think "Ahahaha Awwww!" describes hobbit fandom, especially our Sideshow doll toting side of it, though with more favorable connotations on the small part. (-:

I hadn't thought of that, Lavender, the idea of Frodo bringing the power of Mordor into Lórien. That idea is strongly implied in the film, though, with all that "you bring great Evil here" etc. I wonder how much the filmmakers were filling in from Tolkien's background material, though. Maybe it was just another example of their impulse to "up the ante". Either way, the notion that the folk of Lórien perceived Frodo as a grave threat to their security can make sense within the wider Tolkien canon, as you have shown.

That icon was made by Iconzicons, who made a bunch of funny Bakshi-based icons. I saved about a dozen of them when Peachy aussiepeach directed me there. Yeah, no one in hobbit fandom (the part of it that reads erotica) would call the Ring-bearer's part "small". Galadriel might rightly refer to Frodo's overall physical stature that way, ("even the smallest person"), but not his *member*. "Small", applied to Frodo's hobbithood, simply does not strike an adequately heroic chord. But, back to the Bakshi icon, I suppose a six foot-plus Elf woman might think it a bit on the wee side. ;)